


Grinch

by heelnev



Series: Neville vs. the Holidays [4]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Holidays, M/M, mustafa just likes the aesthetic, nev really hates holiday lights and lawn ornaments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 01:52:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13113435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heelnev/pseuds/heelnev
Summary: Neville wouldn’t go as far as to call himself “205 Live’s Resident Grinch” or anything, but it was no secret that he wasn’t very big on holiday cheer.





	Grinch

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays, if you're celebrating!! And regardless of whether you do or you don't, have these Good Boys.

Neville wouldn’t go as far as to call himself “205 Live’s Resident Grinch” or anything, but it was no secret that he wasn’t very big on holiday cheer. Sure, having a few days off to spend with Mustafa at their home was nice, but other than that the whole time of year seemed very overrated to him. It was too damn cold out, the music was tacky and overplayed -- it was everything that Neville hated rolled into one supposedly “wonderful time of year”.

So _naturally_ he was the one hosting the annual holiday party.

The easy route was to blame Mustafa, so that was exactly what he did. Hosting Thanksgiving simply wasn’t enough for him, and he just _had_ to host the holiday party too (despite the fact that he didn’t even celebrate). Neville had tried to tell him that if there was going to be a party then it was only fair that someone else be the host since they hosted the last event, but he insisted that that “someone” should be the two of them. As such, they needed to make their house look appropriate before the date arrived.

Which meant it was time to go shopping for decorations.

 _Add ‘stores around the holidays’ to the list of things I hate about this time of year…_ Neville pouted, glaring down towards the white tiles of the store’s floor as the loud sounds of people chattering and kids complaining to their mothers filled his ears.

“Nev, which ones do you think we should get for the front of the house?” The next sound that he heard was that of Mustafa talking. He was currently holding up two different boxes of string lights -- one with white lights and one with multiple colors -- his gaze shifting between them.

“I really don’t care. Go with whatever you want.” Neville leaned forward and rested his arms on the cart handle, looking bored out of his damn mind. He loved Mustafa to death, but there were so many things he would rather be doing at that moment besides shopping for _lights_ of all things.

“But it’s _our_ house. It’s not fair if _I_ have all the say. Come on, just pick one.”

“I don’t know!”

“Pick one at random, then!”

“Oh my God, Moose, why do you make me do these things…” Neville rolled his eyes before tapping the box of the multi-color lights. “This one.”

“Great choice!” Mustafa grinned that one grin of his that never failed to make Neville’s heart skip a beat (even in harrowing circumstances such as these), and he dropped the box into the cart before returning the other one to the shelf. After a moment of consideration, he took it back off, grabbing a few more boxes of the multi-color lights and dropping them all into the cart as well.

“Moose, seriously? What was the point in making me choose if you were going to get both kinds anyway?” He was met with a shrug. “Do we really need this many?”

“There’s no such thing as too many!”

“Ever hear of something called ‘overkill’, lad?” Neville counted the boxes -- _six_. Did they even have enough space on their home to fit all of these? “God, can we go now?”

“Are you serious? We’re just getting started! We still need to get lights to hang in the windows.” Mustafa looked down towards the end of the aisle. “I can see this really cool big snowflake over there. Let’s go look at it.” He motioned for Neville to follow as he started to walk off.

“Let’s _not_ …” Neville said this, but he still followed along behind him, pushing the cart and grumbling the whole way.

* * *

 “Moose, what the hell is the point of this thing?” Neville was standing on their snow covered lawn, hands shoved in his coat pocket as he glared at the inflatable snowman standing in front of him. “Something about its smile creeps me the fuck out.”

Mustafa had been in the middle of stringing some of the lights they had bought around the railing of the front steps when he stopped and frowned at him. “It only has to stay up until after the holidays.”

“Define ‘holidays’, please.”

“Hmm… New Year’s?”

“Oh God, this thing is gonna be on my lawn for that long?!”

“You two can co-exist for a couple of weeks.” He looked back down at the lights, continuing his work and saying, “Oh, and don’t kick it, please. You did the same thing with the inflatable pumpkin on Halloween and destroyed it. Remind me to pick up a new one for next year.”

“I’ll be sure to _not_ do that.” Neville believed that the lights were a hassle, but these giant inflatable… _things_ were arguably even more annoying. What in the world was even the point of them? All they did was take up space on the lawn and look ugly as hell. Whenever they would be on the road and would pass by a house with one of them outside, he would judge them. Never once did he think he would become one of those people.

Neville looked over into the front yard of their neighbors, noticing that they also had one of these accursed decorations. All that time spent laughing behind their backs was for naught. This one featured elves -- three elves to be exact, all sitting gleefully around a bright red cannon that just so happened to be pointing directly towards him. _What the fuck is_ **_that_ ** _supposed to be?_ He thought as his eyebrows scrunched together.

“Moose, does that look weird to you at all?” Neville marched up to the stairs, thumb pointing in the direction of the cannon.

Mustafa took a look over his shoulder at it, only to turn back to Neville a moment later and shrug. “Not really. Why, should it?”

“Those damn elves have a weapon! Lord only knows what they plan on firing out of that thing.”

“Maybe… gee, I dunno… presents?”

“Okay, but what _kind_ of presents, huh? Cute toys? Or something potentially harmful?”

“You’re looking too deep into this, love.” Mustafa shook his head, patting Neville’s cheek. “Maybe you should go inside and have hot chocolate or something. I think the cold is starting to get to you.”

“You say that now, but don’t come crying to me when those little fuckers start firing shit at our house.”

* * *

 Neville plopped down heavily on the couch, letting out a sigh and leaning back into the cushion. After a long day of holiday bullshit, this was the only place he wanted to be.  “Please tell me that we’re done now,” he whined as he rubbed his face with one of his hands. “I’m hungry.”

“Well…” Mustafa crossed his arms as he thought. “There is _one_ last decoration I think we need to put up before we’re officially done.”

“Dear God, _what_?” Neville threw back his head shutting his eyes. He just wanted to eat dinner… “What could possibly be left?”

“You’ll see!” Mustafa’s voice was farther away now, and Neville opened his eyes, realizing that he’d left the room while he wasn’t looking. He resigned himself to his fate and shut his eyes again, wondering where it was that his lover had run off to.

 _Don’t even tell me that it’s more lights_ … Their house was so brightly lit that his family over in England could probably see it. _Or is it another one of those freaky lawn things?_ Neville recalled the way that those elves were looking at him and was hoping to God that nothing like that was to be infiltrating their home for the holidays. _Or maybe it’s--_

“Oof!” Neville’s thoughts were suddenly cut off when he felt a weight on his lap, and he opened his eyes to find that Mustafa was now sitting on him. “What the hell are you doing?”

Mustafa didn’t reply and only batted his eyelashes, slowly raising one of his arms above Neville’s head. He was holding something, though Neville couldn’t see what it was. He eventually took the bait and decided to look up, and his mouth dropped open when he saw that Mustafa was holding a mistletoe. “You’re joking,” he said.

“I’m not,” Mustafa replied, giving it a little shake.

“So I’m guessing you want me to kiss you now?”

“No, I want you to break up with me. Of _course_ I want you to kiss me!”

Neville sighed, pursing his lips. He gave Mustafa kisses all the time, why in the world did they need this silly little plant to tell them when they should kiss? It was so silly — _too_ silly, for that matter.

...Then again, Neville _had_ been acting like a pain in the ass for the entire day. He’d done nothing but whine about decorating. The least he could do was play along and give him a kiss.

“Alright, you win,” Neville replied with a little shrug before leaning in, planting a quick kiss on Mustafa’s lips.

Mustafa blinked at him, looking almost disappointed. “Is that it?” He asked.

“What?”

“I expected a little more from the King…”

“Am I not good enough for you?”

“You’re excellent!” Mustafa cupped Neville’s cheek, gently stroking it with his thumb. “I just thought that the King was capable of more than a little peck…”

“Is that so?” Neville raised an eyebrow, encouraged by his goading, a small smirk beginning to work its way across his face. “Well then…”

Before Mustafa could do anything more, he was suddenly pushed down onto the couch, and he yelped at the sudden movement. “If ‘more’ is what my Prince wants,” Neville started as he straddled his hips, “then I guess I’ll just have to give it to him…”

Dinner could wait a little longer.

* * *

Mustafa had always told Neville that if he went into something with a negative attitude, then naturally he wasn’t going to have a good time. It was better to have a positive outlook on things so that he would actually enjoy himself for once.

Then again, Neville was pretty sure that even if he’d been the most positive man on the planet, he still wouldn’t have been any less miserable at that godforsaken party.

“I think you’re being just a _little_ bit dramatic,” Mustafa said as entered their bedroom, moving over to the dresser and digging around inside of one of the drawers as he searched for something to change into.

“I am not,” Neville replied from the bed.

“Aren’t you, though? This really isn’t that big of a deal.”

“Tozawa is currently sleeping in our guest room, _and_ you made _me_ tuck him in! It was one of the most painful experiences of my life.”

From the mirror that was hanging above the dresser, Neville could see that Mustafa had rolled his eyes. It was more or less as Neville so eloquently put it -- Tozawa had stumbled into their guest room and passed out on the bed. Neville had wanted to wake him up and kick him out like he’d done with the other guests that evening, but Mustafa insisted on leaving him be and letting him sleep. “I did not _make_ you tuck him in. I _suggested_ that it would be nice of you if you did.”

“Yeah, and then you gave me that goddamn look. I knew damn well you weren’t gonna let me leave that damn room unless I tucked him in first.” Neville grimaced. “Now he’s spending the night here. Do you have any idea how weird this is? The man who once beat me for the Cruiserweight title is currently sleeping in my damn house.”

“Yes, and the man who you used to call ‘the ultimate thorn in your side’ is currently your damn boyfriend.” It appeared as if Mustafa finally found something to change into, and he began to undress, tugging his shirt over his head.

“And thank _God_ for that.” Neville smirked as he watched Mustafa closely. “I never get tired of looking at your body, you know that?”

“Oh, stop that.”

“It’s the truth.” Neville put his arms behind his head, shutting his eyes as he waited for Mustafa to finish getting dressed and join him. “Hurry up, I’m cold.”

“There’s a blanket literally right there that you can use to warm up.”

“Why use that when I have a perfectly good Prince at my disposal?”

Mustafa joined him on the bed a moment later, and Neville felt as something was placed down on his lap. He opened one of his eyes and saw that it was a medium-sized box, poorly wrapped in dark purple paper. “Moose, what’s this?” He asked, sitting up and holding the box in his hands.

“A horribly wrapped present.” He chuckled self-derisively.

“I thought we agreed that we wouldn’t be exchanging gifts.”

“I know, but… I just wanted to give you something. After having such an amazing year career-wise, you deserve it.”

Neville looked between him and the present, chewing his lip. “Should I be afraid? Because I feel like I should be.”

“Nothing to be afraid of. Just open it!” Mustafa gave him a little shove, wearing an encouraging smile. “I think you’re really gonna like it.”

Neville looked down at the box again before finally shrugging and beginning to tear away the paper. He could feel Mustafa’s eyes on him, watching his every move closely. “Must you stare? You’re making me anxious.”

“I’m excited to see how you’ll react! Is that a crime?”

“Well, no… But it just makes me worry about whatever this gift is. Is this one of those pranks where a boxing glove bursts out and hits me in the face?”

“Would you just open the damn thing already?”

Neville ripped away the last few bits of paper, and he took the top of the box off. Whatever was inside was black -- and very soft, too, as he’d discovered once he’d touched it. Taking it out revealed that it was an over-sized sweater, the word “KING” written in bold white letters across the front.

“It took me _forever_ to make, but I think it came out pretty good,” Mustafa said. After a beat of silence, he said, “Well…?”

Neville was still just staring at it, clutching the soft fabric in his hands. He couldn’t even remember the last time someone had actually given him a present, especially one as nice as this. “I…” He started. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Do you like it?”

Neville swallowed and brought the sweater up close to himself, burying his face in it. He took a shaky breath. “Y-Yeah… I do… Thank you.”

“Nev, are you… are you crying?”

“ _No_ ,” he snapped with a sniffle, keeping his face hidden. “I’m not. I never cry.”

“Are you sure? It sounds to me like you are.” Mustafa rested a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

“I-I just…” Neville finally looked at him, his cheeks still a little damp. “I love you. So much.”

Mustafa smiled, and he gave him a kiss, pressing their foreheads together. “I love you too, King.”


End file.
